Three Left Feet
by catharticone
Summary: Bella plans a wedding surprise for Edward, but we all know what happens to the best-laid plans...
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note**_**:** _Twilight_ is the property of Stephenie Meyer. I'm just borrowing, and absolutely no infringement is intended.

* * *

I realized that my body should register pain, but my initial thought, the sensation that overrode everything else, was abject fear. I wasn't in any terrible physical danger, however; it was my mind, my very soul, for which I feared. Because if Edward found out about this—if he knew what happened—it would be the birthday incident all over again. I couldn't bear it. I could not, would not, lose him again. And I would do whatever was required to ensure that history did not repeat itself.

I took a deep breath and pushed myself up off the ground just as Emmett turned back to me. His wide, affectionate grin disappeared when he saw me stumbling to my feet.

"Hey Bella, what're you doing down there? Are you all right?"

I glanced over my shoulder quickly to check for blood on the post. Fortunately I didn't see any. I nodded and tried to laugh casually, though it sounded awfully wooden to me.

"I'm fine—just tripped over my own two feet. What else is new?"

He chortled at that then eased back as he eyed me more critically. "You wanna take a break? You seem a little out of breath. Edward'd kill me if he thought I'd overtired you or something."

I nodded agreeably and tried to keep my voice from shaking as I replied, "Yep. I guess I could do with a glass of water." With a shrug, I added, "Sorry, human thing."

His booming laugh throbbed through my aching head. "Come on, squirt," he said, looping his arm through mine, "let's water the human."

The differences in our heights made walking smoothly at his side impossible. And I was very, very glad, because it meant that Emmett didn't notice my faltering, unsteady gait as I stumbled along beside him.

_Keep it from Edward; don't let him know._ This phrase instantly became my mantra, giving me the strength to remain on my feet until we got into the house. My mind slipped back to one idle conversation three days ago. I'd had no idea then that it could ruin everything.

* * *

I suppose no one would have been surprised to discover that I couldn't dance. Edward already knew, of course, and I imagine the rest of the family had their suspicions, but it had never really been an issue. However, once Edward shared the news of our engagement, a flurry of plans descended. Most of them were utterly overwhelming, and I left a great deal of those in Alice's capable, if hyperactive, hands.

Within a day or so of the announcement, Alice had informed me that Edward would want an old-fashioned wedding with traditional music, décor, and attire. I didn't really care; I just wanted to avoid unnecessary attention.

"You're going to be his dream bride," Alice had told me, her voice trilling with excitement and love for us both. "Oh Bella, you're going to make him so happy!"

She embraced me then danced back with her usual, effortless grace. I watched her small feet move beautifully over the floor.

"Do you think," I began, hesitant to ask, "that he'll want to dance with me at the wedding?"

Alice's laugh sounded like bells. "Of course he will, silly! You two will have…" She closed her eyes for an instant, then continued, "A waltz! Ooh, you'll both look so elegant, just like something out of a movie!"

I nearly snorted at this. "Elegant isn't the word I'd use to describe my dancing," I muttered.

Shoot. I'd forgotten about Alice's acute vampire hearing. She arched a perfect eyebrow at me. "Do you know how to waltz?" she asked.

"Um… no?"

Her lips pursed and her brow furrowed. "Hmm. Well, we can fix that. I'll just have to arrange for one of us to give you some lessons!"

With those fateful words, she skipped off, leaving me to wonder who she would choose. I was certain that Carlisle was an excellent dancer; he moved with innate grace. I supposed I could manage a few dance lessons with him. He was patient and sympathetic, and if I tripped over my feet and sprained my ankle, he'd be able to patch me up. I chuckled at this last thought.

Then there was Jasper. He was still a Southern gentleman at heart. He probably knew all sorts of dances, and he was lithe and fluid, too. Also, he'd be able to keep me calm, which might actually help my coordination. After so many years of klutziness, I had to admit that a small part of the problem might lie in my own expectations… Yes, Jasper would be a good teacher.

When Alice returned a few minutes later dragging Emmett by the hand, I was more than a little surprised. She must have needed him for something else.

"Okay!" she chirped, "watch and learn!"

I did watch—utterly agape at first—as she began humming then positioned herself before him. He gave me one vaguely self-conscious glance then shrugged as his expression changed to an enormous grin. In a moment he and Alice were waltzing with perfectly executed, flawless, light-as-air steps. I was truly stunned that someone so huge could move so smoothly. He guided Alice gracefully, his hand light on her back. I watched their feet; each step seemed effortless.

After about a minute, Alice sang, "Now, Emmett!" and he twirled her to a flowing stop. Then he offered her a polite, if somewhat amused, bow.

He grinned proudly at me. "Emmett Astaire at your service!"

"Wow," I said. "I had no idea you could do that!"

"I couldn't before I was changed," he confessed, "but now it's easy. Rose taught me after my first year. That was back when we'd go to the jazz clubs and hear the big bands. Any excuse for her to get dressed up and have everyone drool over her…" He rolled his eyes in fond exasperation.

"I'm a pretty hopeless case," I replied, shaking my head doubtfully. "I think I have three left feet!"

Emmett laughed heartily. "That's okay, Bella, I did too!"

"So, Emmett will teach you to waltz, and I'll be sure everything else is just perfect!" Alice chimed. She was bouncing with excitement.

"Well, I guess you can try," I said, still dubious. "But can we keep this just between us?" I could already imagine Rosalie's slightly scathing look if she knew her husband was trying to teach the Queen of Clumsy to dance.

Emmett winked at me. "Yep. Our little secret!"

Given the volume of his voice, I doubted that. But at least Edward was out hunting, so he wouldn't know. A little grin tugged at the corners of my lips as I imagined his surprise when I danced competently—not skillfully, I wasn't that optimistic—on our wedding day.

"Everyone's going to Seattle on Monday," Alice said. "You can start the lessons then."

"But Rose expects me to go!" Emmett reminded her, not wanting to incite his wife's wrath.

"I'll handle Rosalie!" Alice proclaimed cheerfully. "You two just focus on dancing!"

That sealed the deal. I was in for it now.

* * *

_To be continued..._

_Note:_ If the site would let me, I would have put this under a Bella/Carlisle/Emmett category, but alas three characters are not allowed! Carlisle will enter the picture soon, though.


	2. Chapter 2

I was never given the full details about the rather intricate scheme that resulted in Emmett's remaining at home while Esme, Alice, Rosalie, Edward, and Jasper went to Seattle. The women planned to shop for wedding attire, while Edward and Jasper were plotting something related to our honeymoon; it seemed very clandestine.

Just prior to their departure, Emmett had "accidentally" torn out a large section of the garage after instigating a wrestling match with Jasper. This earned a stern reprimand from Carlisle before he left for work. Emmett appeared contrite and promised he'd have the damage repaired by the time everyone returned from Seattle.

In point of fact, he'd already bought all the supplies and hidden them in the woods, so he had the work completed in about half an hour. No one but me, however, was aware of this. He grinned conspiratorially at me when I emerged from my truck about forty minutes after everyone else had left. I'd managed to avoid the shopping trip by saying I needed to spend some quality time with Charlie before the wedding. I'd cooked breakfast for him then waved him off to work.

"So," Emmett said, "are you ready to become the next Ginger Rogers?"

I laughed at his enthusiasm and optimism. "I'll settle for a few basic steps that I can do without getting my feet tangled together!"

He took me to the porch, where he'd set up a small pair of speakers connected to his iPod. Waltz music flowed as our feet moved over the wooden floor.

True to his word, Emmett proved to be a good teacher. He was patient with me, and, while he chuckled at my missteps, it was a sympathetic, affable laugh, not one of derision.

His huge hands guided me gently through the steps and movements. I could tell that he was being extra cautious, touching me as lightly as he possibly could. I think Alice had warned him to be careful of the breakable human, and he took that advice to the extreme.

However, as my steps became more practiced and less awkward, he seemed to relax a little, gripping my hand with slightly greater pressure. His movements became more enthusiastic, too, and once I'd mastered the basic two-step, he began to throw in a few more interesting moves.

This was where we should have stopped. I knew that in retrospect, but at the time I was having fun. I felt good about myself for once; Emmett had actually managed to teach me to dance without falling over my feet. He was quite pleased with my progress, too, grinning widely as he watched me.

"Okay, let's pump this up a little!" he said, moving his feet a bit faster then spinning me out to the end of his arm and back in again. I wasn't sure how he'd done that, but it was pretty cool, and I laughed happily.

"You like that, huh?" he asked. "Wait'll you try this!"

His arm flung me out, releasing me as he shouted, "Twirl!"

In fact, I had no choice. The force of his movement sent me into a spin that didn't stop until my head collided with one of the thick wooden posts on the edge of the porch. I suddenly found myself sprawled on the ground, black spots dancing before my eyes in time to the music. My head was beginning to throb.

I blinked hard, trying to clear my vision. Emmett's back was to me; he was completing some move or another then posing proudly with his arms outstretched. He began to turn his head to look back at me.

I scrabbled up onto my feet, but hadn't quite managed to stand by the time he'd turned around fully. The pain receded behind my immediate fear. What if Edward found out about this? Yes, we were engaged. Yes, he'd committed himself to me completely and promised he'd never leave me again. But I'd thought that before, too. My injury at Jasper's hands had brought out a brooding, darkly remorseful side of Edward that I never wanted to see again.

So I formulated my mantra: _Keep it from Edward; don't let him know. Keep it from Edward; don't let him know… _It was all I could do for now—because I knew I'd hit my head very hard, and I had enough experience with injuries to realize that this wasn't just an innocuous little bump. The dizziness had not abated, and my vision remained blurry.

I took several deep, steadying breaths as I stumbled along at Emmett's side. When he released my arm in the kitchen, I sank down into one of the chairs at the table, trying to remain upright when all I wanted to do was crumple into a puddle on the floor.

"…water or soda?" Emmett was asking me. He held a glass full of ice in his hand.

"Oh, water will be fine," I replied, impressed by the steadiness of my voice.

He filled the tumbler and set it before me. I smiled my thanks and wrapped my hands around the cold glass. It felt nice, and I wanted very much to press it against my face.

"Whew," I said, blowing a few strands of hair out of my eyes. "I didn't realize how warm it is today. I got kind of sweaty out there. Talk about a good workout…"

Emmett laughed. "I kinda miss sweating," he admitted. "It always let me know that I'd worked or played hard."

I chuckled politely then asked, "Could you hand me a towel?"

While his back was turned I lifted the glass to my face and rested my cheek against it. My vision was still slightly fuzzy, and my efforts to see clearly were making me a little queasy.

After taking a tiny sip of water, I set the glass back on the table then pretended to wipe my face with the towel. I needed to be alone for a while. Maybe if I could get ice on my head I could prevent some of the swelling. I knew I wouldn't be able to hide it completely from Edward… Actually, I was a little surprised that Emmett wasn't aware of it yet. I could feel the throbbing as blood flooded from the broken vessels beneath my skin.

Leaving wasn't an option at the moment, because I knew I couldn't drive safely, at least not now. I hoped that in a little while I could.

I hated to be coy; ingenuousness wasn't really in my nature. But desperate times called for desperate measures, so I used my most feminine and helpless voice to ask, "Emmett, do you think I did well today?"

"Of course you did!" he replied immediately, clearly concerned by my continued lack of confidence.

"I don't know…"

"You were great, Bella! I really didn't think you'd learn so fast, but you picked it right up."

I shrugged self-effacingly. "Maybe…"

"Aw, come on, you've gotta believe me!"

"You're just being nice," I half-pouted.

"No, I'm not! You're good."

"Really? Really and truly?"

"Yeah! So good that you deserve a reward!"

I grinned. "A reward? What kind of reward?"

"Well," he thought for a moment, "when Rosalie does something really good, I usually buy her some jewelry or a car, and when I do something good she gets me a new game for my X-Box or Wii…"

"I don't need anything like that!" I piped up. My eyes flicked to the freezer as I attempted to provide him with a small prompt.

Unconsciously he followed my gaze. "How about… ice cream? Humans like ice cream, right?" He was quite pleased with himself for thinking of it.

"Oh yes! I love ice cream! I haven't had that in ages! Would you really go and get me some?"

"Sure! What kind do you like?"

"Chocolate chip?"

"Come on then! There's that ice cream place by the hardware store. Is that okay?"

"Mmm, perfect! But would you mind going by yourself? I want to practice a little more, and maybe when you get back we can try that last move again."

"You got it!" He'd grabbed his keys in a flash. "Be back soon."

"Don't drive too fast," I called after him. "Charlie told me he's setting up speed traps today, and you don't want to get a ticket."

"Oh—thanks Bella! See you soon."

The moment I heard the door shut I pressed the icy glass to my forehead. It didn't help much. I was starting to feel a little clammy now, actually. My stomach was unsettled, and the sip of water seemed to slosh around in an unpleasant way.

_Keep it from Edward; don't let him know. _I repeated the important words again, drawing a bit of strength from them. Right. I needed to get some ice on my head. I stood on shaky legs and shambled to the freezer. I pulled out a few ice cubes and wrapped them in a towel then shuffled out to the living room. I really needed to lie down…

I sank down onto the couch, lying on my side so that I could place the ice over the lump above my ear. It really hurt now, and the coldness only made it throb more. I felt tears stinging in my eyes. Why did this have to happen now? Everything had been going so well, so perfectly, too perfectly… And that's why. Things were too good, and fate had a way of intervening when that occurred.

But I wouldn't let that cruel mistress get in my way this time. _Keep it from Edward; don't let him know. _That's all I had to do. I just needed to avoid Edward today. I would rest here for a little while then drive home, leaving a note for Emmett with some plausible excuse for my departure.

Unfortunately, my stomach had other plans. In an instant cold sweat had drenched my body, alerting me to the unpleasant, impending event. I lurched up from the couch, the towel and ice forgotten in my haste to lumber to the nearest bathroom. I fell to my knees on the floor, gripping onto the toilet for dear life.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

By the time my stomach was truly empty, I could barely keep upright. My hands clutched the toilet seat fiercely as the black spots before my eyes returned with a vengeance. My head was throbbing and spinning in equal measure, and I was gasping for air.

I repeated my mantra, which helped me to focus a little. Right, steady the breathing first. I worked at that for a minute or so, and once I could breathe with some regularity I found my vision clearing a bit. Fumbling, I reached to flush the toilet then pulled myself up to lean against the sink.

I rubbed cold water over my face and rinsed out my mouth. I didn't dare to look in the mirror; I knew what my reflection would show. I turned slowly and made my way to the door, one hand resting against the wall for support. I could see the living room from the doorway. The end of the couch beckoned me. I would rest for a few more minutes then be ready to drive home. _Keep it from Edward; don't let him know._

I moved my feet in rhythm to the mantra, chanting it to myself now. There was a sort of dullness between my ears, so the words seemed to echo in my mind. I think my lips were moving, but no sound came out of my mouth.

"Bella?"

My head snapped up at the unexpected voice, and I nearly stumbled. I was about three steps from the couch. As I blinked, Carlisle's lean, sculpted form came into focus across the room from me.

"Um… hi," I croaked, my throat still a little raw.

"I saw your truck. Are you waiting for Edward? I thought you knew he'd gone to Seattle today—" Abruptly his head turned to the side, and I could hear him inhale slowly. "Bella, are you ill?"

He was before me in an instant, his hands landing lightly upon my shoulders. I looked down, embarrassed and anxious. I had to hide this from him. _Keep it from Edward; don't let him know._

"Um, yeah. I had a banana that… tasted off this morning." I kept my head down, fixing my gaze upon his spotless Italian leather shoes.

"Did you come here because you felt sick?"

"Oh, uh no. It's… sort of silly, actually." I continued speaking to the floor.

"What's going on?" he asked, his tone containing equal amounts of curiosity and concern.

"Emmett's teaching me to dance. I wanted to surprise Edward. For the wedding, I mean."

The wedding—oh, I wanted that wedding desperately now. And I just needed to get home, to get away from this house, and everything would be all right. No one would find out what had happened, and no one would worry or be angry or leave me for my own good, which would in truth be the very worst thing that could possibly happen to me. _Keep it from Edward; don't let him know._

"Bella." Carlisle's voice was soft yet firm. I felt his cool finger touch my chin. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing," I murmured. "I should get home now, though. Charlie's waiting—"

He lifted my chin; there was nothing I could do to stop him. I closed my eyes.

"You're hurt," he said. "I can smell fresh blood beneath your skin. You've bruised yourself, or perhaps had a sprain…"

"It's nothing." I squeezed my eyes shut tighter. _Keep it from Edward; don't let him know._

"Open your eyes." His hand spread over my cheek, and it felt wonderfully cool; it almost helped the throbbing in my head. "Bella, please look at me."

I blurted out, "I hit my head, and I think I have a concussion," the words running together in the vague hope that he wouldn't understand them. Naturally this was not the case; he comprehended perfectly. I opened my eyes half-way to squint at him.

"You've had a concussion before," he commented calmly.

I nodded, "Twice."

He guided me toward the couch and eased me down with a hand at my elbow. Through my lashes I saw him kneel in front of me.

"Let me see your eyes." His voice was kind but held a mildly authoritative tone.

I sighed and opened my eyes fully. He peered into them for a few seconds then pulled a penlight from his jacket pocket. He shone the annoyingly bright little beam into each eye, which made my head throb even more. I had to resist the urge to groan at the painful intrusion.

He tucked the penlight back inside his pocket then moved both hands up to my head. His fingers probed gently over my skull. "How did this happen?" he asked.

I couldn't help but wince and suck in a breath when his questing fingers found the lump.

"I stumbled," I stammered. "Just tripped over my own two feet—same old, same old."

His fingers moved carefully over the swelling and the area surrounding it. His brow creased a little. "Was this while you were dancing with Emmett?"

"No." Then a bit more adamantly I repeated, "No! Of course not. Emmett was very careful with me. I tripped while I was practicing on my own, _after_ he left to get ice cream."

"I see. And what did you hit your head on?"

"One of the posts on the porch." At least I could be honest about that.

He held my chin gently with one hand then moved his finger in front of my eyes. "Follow this, please."

I knew the drill. I complied, but the small motion left me rather dizzy. I tried to take a steadying breath as the nausea coiled through me again.

Carlisle seemed to realize this, because he said softly, "Close your eyes and breathe slowly."

I did, and I felt one cool hand rest against the back of my neck while the other pressed over my palm. He applied a little pressure at the base of my thumb, and the nausea subsided.

"Thank you," I murmured.

"You're welcome."

He brushed his fingers lightly across my cheek, and I opened my eyes again. He was still scrutinizing me. Then, abruptly, he shot out of the room, returning a moment later with his black bag in hand.

I eyed it warily, decidedly unenthusiastic at the prospect of his using any of the items inside on me. I really, really disliked doctors… even though I adored Carlisle.

"What is today's date?" he was asking me.

I told him, and he nodded. He questioned me about various recent and past events, then he stated six items and asked me to say them back to him. I recalled that this was standard procedure for a head injury. He would ask me to repeat the items later to test my long-term memory.

He had me close my eyes and touch my nose, then he helped me to rise and instructed me to stand on first my left foot then my right. I accomplished these tasks with minimal success, glad when he took my arm gently and eased me back down again.

I suffered through those annoying little taps at my wrists, inner arms, and knees with his small rubber hammer as he assessed my reflexes. I tried not to flinch when he took my blood pressure, even though the cuff was uncomfortably tight and scratchy. I sat still while he peered into each ear. It all seemed to take forever, and I couldn't help but glance at the doorway more than once.

_Keep it from Edward; don't let him know._

Finally Carlisle closed his bag. He was smiling slightly. "I agree with your diagnosis, Bella. You do have a concussion, but it appears mild."

"Right. Thanks. I didn't mean to bother you. Nothing to discuss or think about, really. I'll just head home now." I began to rise.

He caught my wrist softly. "I can't allow you to drive for at least twenty-four hours."

I frowned. "I'm okay. Really. I'm not dizzy at all now." That was a small lie, but my head did feel a little clearer. If I drove slowly, I was sure I'd be fine.

He shook his head. "No driving, Bella. And you shouldn't be alone, either."

"I'll call Charlie. He can come and get me and stay with me." It wasn't the ideal solution; I'd prefer that he not know about this. But it was much, much better than having Edward find out. _Keep it from Edward; don't let him know._

Carlisle gave me a quizzical look before responding. "Your father's in Port Angeles today. There was a big fire at one of the warehouses, and they suspect arson. He went to help out with the investigation. He probably won't be back until this evening."

"How many were hurt?" I asked, realizing Carlisle must know about the situation from its casualties.

"Only one man, but his burns are fairly serious. They're transferring him to Seattle. That's why I'm here, actually. I left my Blackberry this morning—things were a bit hectic as everyone tried to get ready to leave—and I need to get the number of a colleague down there, a burn specialist."

"You'd better do that, then."

He nodded.

"And maybe you could drop me off at Angela Weber's house on your way back to the hospital? She can be sure I'm all right."

"No, dear, that won't be necessary. I can work from home for the rest of the day and keep an eye on you myself."

"But you have that burn patient—"

"He's already on the way to Seattle. I just need to call Dr. Lambert and alert her that he's coming. I'll be back in a moment."

He was gone in a flash, returning with his Blackberry in hand. His fingers flew over the small keys. I lowered my aching head into my hands as he spoke with his colleague. This was turning out terribly. The last thing I wanted was to stay here. There would be no way to keep this from Edward if I did. Even if Charlie returned and I could go home before Edward got back, he'd still see my presence in Emmett's and Carlisle's thoughts.

But I had given Carlisle my story, and he hadn't questioned it. Maybe, just maybe, I could alter it a bit more so that Emmett had absolutely no involvement. Maybe I'd just stopped by to pick up something and had tripped on the porch… Would Edward believe that? It was my only option, really.

I was barely aware of Carlisle's soft voice as he spoke into the phone. So when he touched my shoulder, I nearly jumped.

"Bella," he said gently, "perhaps you'd be more comfortable in Edward's room?"

I nodded woodenly. My head was throbbing mercilessly now, but I begin hauling myself to my feet. I wavered, though, and Carlisle's arm immediately slipped around my waist. In an instant he'd scooped me up to hold me securely against his chest. I rested my temple against his cool shirt. I didn't realize I was grasping at the fabric, though, until he stood over Edward's bed and began to lower me onto the mattress.

"Here we are," he was saying. "I'm going to get you something for the pain."

He settled me against the soft, fluffy pillows then vanished. I looked up at the ceiling. It was a little blurry, but I supposed that was to be expected. I sighed.

Carlisle returned shortly, a glass of water in one hand and two tablets in the other. He lifted my head gently so that I could swallow the pills. Then he disappeared again, only to return a moment later with a cool, wet washcloth. He'd already folded it, and he placed it over my forehead.

"Thanks," I said softly.

"Just rest, Bella. I'll check on you again soon, but if you need me, just call."

I knew that in this household, 'call' meant whisper his name. "Okay," I replied, closing my eyes. I felt his hand brush over my cheek, and then I must have drifted off to sleep.

* * *

_To be continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

"But I got ice cream for her!"

Emmett's booming voice jolted me out of my slumber and brought back the dull thudding in my head.

"Sshh. Keep your voice down," Carlisle cautioned, his tone firmer than usual.

"How'd she get hurt, anyway?"

"She said she tripped on the porch and hit her head on one of the posts," Carlisle responded quietly. His voice was getting a bit louder as he came into the room.

I opened one eye cautiously. The pain in my head remained steady, so I risked opening the other eye. Carlisle smiled down at me.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?"

"Okay, I guess," I replied huskily.

Emmett loomed at the foot of the bed, his expression an odd, humorous mix of concern and excitement. His attempt to speak softly almost made me laugh aloud.

"Bella! What'd you do to yourself? You've gotta be more careful!"

I gave him a self-effacing half-smile in reply.

Carlisle studied my eyes for a moment then lifted my hand and pressed his fingers lightly over my wrist. "Do you remember why Emmett went out?" he asked me.

"To get ice cream," I answered.

"What flavor?"

"Chocolate chip."

He nodded in satisfaction, clearly pleased that I wasn't suffering any serious memory impairments. "How's your head?"

"A little sore," I said honestly. Darn, I'd meant to say I felt fine. Maybe then he'd relent and take me to Angela's house after all…

Carlisle's cool fingers moved gently over the bump again. "Hmm," he muttered to himself.

"But I'm really feeling much better," I added quickly. "Emmett can run me over to Angela's—"

"Bella," Carlisle said, his tone kind yet firm, "no. You need to stay here. Or, if you'd really rather not, I can take you to the hospital. But you need to remain under professional observation."

Ugh. I really, really hated hospitals… But then again, if I were tucked away at Forks General, maybe Edward wouldn't find out I'd been hurt. _Keep it from Edward. Don't let him know._

"Bella?" Carlisle questioned, concern returning to his voice. "Do you _want _to go to the hospital?" He knew how I felt about those ignominious institutions; I'd visited them often enough. He looked worried.

I swallowed. "Um, no, here's fine, I guess," I conceded.

He shook his head, a small frown creasing his perfect brow. "Emmett, would you bring my bag, please? It's downstairs on the coffee table."

"Yeah, sure." Emmett's huge form shot out the door.

Carlisle asked me several questions—even going so far as to give me a math problem to do in my head. Then, once Emmett had delivered the ubiquitous black bag, he checked my reflexes, blood pressure, eyes, and ears again. I made a mental note to act more like myself; I really didn't want to endure another examination. The whole thing made me want to squirm.

Emmett had stepped out of the room while Carlisle examined me, but the instant he'd finished my biggest brother reappeared holding a large bowl.

"Here's your ice cream," he said, grinning from ear to ear.

"Do you feel like eating, or are you still nauseated?" Carlisle asked.

"Um, no, I'll have a little. Thanks." That sounded like me, right?

Emmett handed me the bowl, and I saw that he'd filled it completely with ice cream—more than I could possibly eat even in the best of circumstances. I quirked an eyebrow at him, but he just smiled wider.

"I have a phone call to make," Carlisle said, standing up and excusing himself with a polite nod.

"How's the burn victim?" I asked, pleased that I'd thought of it.

"He's in Seattle, at the hospital now. His condition is serious, but he's receiving the best care possible."

Emmett watched me expectantly as I dipped the spoon into the bowl and took a small mouthful of ice cream.

"Mmm, good," I mumbled.

"Yeah? There's lots more!"

"This'll be fine. Thanks."

He watched me eat for a few moments, then he asked, "So, how'd you manage to hit your head? Carlisle said you tripped?"

"Yeah, two left feet, remember?" I looked pointedly at the ice cream.

"Dang, Bella, you were doing so well! I thought you were pretty graceful."

"Old dog, new tricks," I muttered around the spoon. Then my stomach lurched, and I felt sweat prickling at my skin. "Oh shoot," I groaned, thrusting the bowl at Emmett as I slid off the bed.

"Bella?" he asked, perplexed as I stumbled past him. "Hey, what's the matter?"

I don't think he fully understood until he saw me hunched over the toilet, expelling all of the ice cream I'd eaten. He looked equally disgusted and fascinated at the same time. I would have found his expression humorous in another, less uncomfortable situation.

When my stomach was empty, I sank back on my heels, wiping the tears from my eyes.

"Hey, are you crying?" Emmett asked, now appearing only concerned. He crouched beside me and gently laid a huge hand on my back.

"No," I replied hoarsely, "not really. It just happens when you—I mean when humans—throw up."

"Oh. Yeah, I sort of remember that…"

He glanced warily at the toilet then flushed it quickly. I took a couple of deep breaths to quell the lingering dizziness. When I looked up again, Carlisle had joined us. I was actually a little surprised that it took him this long… I'm sure he heard me the second I started to retch.

"Sorry," I muttered, scrubbing a hand over my face.

My legs were turning to jelly, and suddenly I found myself sitting in Emmett's lap, leaning against his cold, stony chest. He had an arm wrapped lightly around my waist.

"You okay now?" he was asking me. "You're really pale…"

"You should talk," I retorted mildly.

Carlisle smiled at this. He was kneeling before me now, wiping my mouth and cheeks softly with a warm, damp washcloth. I thanked him when he'd finished.

"I think we'll try to keep your stomach empty for the next few hours," he said, "aside from some water, if you can manage it."

"Did I get bad ice cream?" Emmett asked, worried.

"No, son," Carlisle replied, still slightly amused. "Nausea is a relatively common occurrence after a concussion."

"How long's it gonna last?" he wanted to know.

"Not much longer, I hope," I responded. "I hate throwing up!"

"That _was _pretty gross," Emmett acknowledged.

I elbowed him lightly in the ribs. I'm not sure he even felt it, but my elbow certainly did.

"Has it passed entirely now?" Carlisle asked, studying my face closely.

I nodded. "I think so."

He stood. "All right, then back to bed."

Emmett carried me from the bathroom and set me softly upon the bed. I had to giggle at his expression as he tucked the blanket around me. He was concentrating quite hard as though he were performing a very serious task.

"Thanks," I said, trying to plaster a more solemn and grateful look upon my face.

"Shit Bella, you kinda scared me in there," he said in a confidential tone. "You sure you're okay?"

I nodded. "I'll be fine. I'll just rest for a little while, and then you can take me home."

Emmett was about to reply to this when he cocked his head slightly to the side. Carlisle had vanished again, but I could tell from Emmett's response that he'd heard my request and was responding to it.

"Um yeah, Bella," Emmett said a bit haltingly, appearing slightly discomfited. "You're gonna have to stay here tonight—twenty-four hours." He emphasized the number with a nod of affirmation.

My smile faded immediately to a frown as I groaned inwardly. I would still be here when Edward returned…

"Emmett," I said rather desperately, "remember that the dance lessons were supposed to be a surprise for Edward. Can you please, please try to keep them out of your thoughts when he gets home? I really, really want to surprise him at the wedding."

He grinned conspiratorially at me. "I didn't forget. Don't worry, little sis, I won't think about it one bit."

"Are you sure?" I questioned dubiously.

He arched an eyebrow at me. "C'mon, Bella, do you think I could live with a mind reader for more than sixty years if he knew every single one of my thoughts? The stuff Rose and I do alone would be enough to give him the equivalent of a vampire stroke—"

This time I groaned aloud. "Emmett! Please!"

"Uh, sorry?" He was barely abashed at all. "Anyway, no problem. Eddie-Boy won't find out, at least not from me."

"Carlisle?" I asked quickly, dropping my voice before I forgot that it wouldn't do one bit of good.

"You're gonna have to talk to him about that. I mean, he's all for romantic gestures and surprises and stuff, but he's also got this thing about lying… which is sort of funny when you consider that deception is a huge part of his life nearly every single day." He shrugged. "I guess that's why he tries to be honest when he's with us."

"I'm not asking either of you to lie," I clarified. "I just don't want Edward to know about our lessons until the wedding."

"Yeah, I get it, and really I'm fine with it." He snorted as a thought struck him. "Knowing old Eddie, he'd think I was the one who hurt you, and I'd never hear the end of it—assuming I still had ears after he'd finished with me!"

My stomach churned again, and I inhaled slowly to quell the queasiness.

"You're looking a little green again," he observed shrewdly.

"I'm fine," I reassured him, taking another breath. "My head's just starting to hurt a little more."

He nodded. "I guess I better let you get some rest. You need anything? More ice cream?"

"No! I mean, no thanks, Emmett. And thank you for helping me with the surprise."

He grinned. "I can't wait to see his face!" With that he stood and dashed out the door.

I grimaced when I wondered if Emmett would still have eyes by the end of the day. Because despite his affirmation, I wasn't fully convinced that he would be able to keep his memories hidden. And if Edward did find out… I shuddered. _Keep it from Edward; don't let him know._

I closed my eyes and sank back into the plush pillows, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart.


	5. Chapter 5

"Bella?" Carlisle's soft voice beckoned me gently.

I offered him a wan smile as I opened my eyes.

"You told Emmett that your head was beginning to hurt more," he said, studying my eyes closely. He frowned a little and reached for his penlight.

"I'm okay," I said, holding up a hand in the hope of warding off the bright annoyance. "I just said that because I wanted to rest some more."

"So your head doesn't feel any worse?"

"No. It's fine."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. Is there anything I can do for you while I'm here?" He seemed to anticipate that I wanted something.

I realized he'd heard my request to Emmett and our brief discussion about him. "Um, I was just wondering—hoping, really—that you could try not to think about my dance lessons with Emmett after Edward gets home? Remember I told you I wanted to surprise him—Edward, I mean…" I was stammering a bit.

Carlisle smiled. I think he was pleased that I recalled our earlier conversation; that probably indicated that my concussion wasn't all that bad. Maybe I could use that to convince him to take me home…

"I do remember your telling me that," he replied evenly. "You seem quite determined that Edward doesn't find out."

I nodded, probably too quickly. "I want it to be a surprise, something I can give him because I can't offer him anything else—no jewelry or fancy gifts or anything—"

"Bella," Carlisle interjected mildly as he rested his cool hand over mine, "don't you know that you're already giving him the only thing he's ever wanted?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but for some reason I couldn't speak. My throat felt tight and thick.

"Now, regarding your request," he continued, "I think it's a reasonable one, and I will honor it on one condition."

I gulped; I didn't like the sound of that. "What's that?" I squeaked.

"I want you to tell me why you've repeated 'Keep it from Edward; don't let him know' so adamantly since the moment I got home."

My eyes widened as I blurted out, "You _heard_ that?"

I wasn't sure, but I suspected he was trying not to smile, because his mouth twitched strangely.

"I did," he replied evenly, "but at the time I couldn't understand why you would be so resolute about that. Forgive me if this sounds at all impolite, but Edward is aware that you occasionally stumble and have even been known to injure yourself in the process. So I was a bit mystified about your intense desire to hide this from him."

"I just… didn't want him to worry. I mean, he'd probably insist on taking me to Seattle or San Francisco for some sort of super-high-tech, advanced brain scan or something if he knew about this." I gestured toward my skull.

"Is that really all there is to it?" His tone, while still gentle, clearly suggested that he knew my answer.

I wasn't sure what to say. I glanced at the doorway; Emmett might still be nearby. And even if he weren't, he would probably hear anything I said.

"Emmett's out in the garage," Carlisle informed me. Then he waited, watching me patiently yet expectantly.

I sighed in resignation. "Does doctor-patient confidentially apply here?" I asked hesitantly.

"Absolutely."

"And you won't accidentally replay this conversation in your thoughts when Edward can hear?"

"No."

I closed my eyes again and buried my face in the blanket. "I'm such a klutz!"

I felt his hand brush lightly over my hair. "You hit your head while you were practicing with Emmett, didn't you?"

My head shot up. "How… how did you know?"

Now he really was suppressing a smile. "Well, it wasn't terribly difficult to figure out. You wouldn't be dead-set against Edward finding out about your injury if you really had simply tripped. You know he would understand that and wouldn't cast blame on anyone… with the possible exception of himself for leaving you alone and not being here to catch you. But if he knew Emmett was responsible—"

"It wasn't his fault!" I interjected.

"Yes, you were rather adamant on that point earlier, too." Now he did permit a small smile to tug at his lips.

I realized I'd given myself away from the get-go.

"It's just that I was so afraid," I said, my voice dropping.

"Afraid? You mean of what Edward might do to Emmett?"

I shook my head. "No—I mean, yes, of course I don't want to see Emmett hurt. But I thought it would be a repeat of my birthday, that Edward would decide I wasn't safe here, that you all were a threat to me, and he'd… he'd… leave me again." Now tears were welling in my eyes.

"Oh Bella." Carlisle drew me into his arms. "This is entirely different."

"But if he thought Emmett was responsible for me getting hurt—" I sniffled into his cold, firm chest.

"Even if he did, things have changed."

"They…" I drew a shaky breath before a little sob escaped me. "They have?"

"Yes, in so many ways. Edward loves you very deeply, and there is nothing that could take him away from you. He still regrets leaving you last year; I'm sure he will for the rest of his existence. He would never put you through that again."

"Even if he thought it was for my own good, to keep me safe?"

Carlisle drew back a little to cup my chin in his hand. He tilted my face up gently so that he could look directly at me. "He knows you are safest, happiest, and healthiest with him, no matter what."

Of course he did. I understood that now. "I guess I was a little silly," I admitted, embarrassed by my tears and my thoughts.

His cool thumb swept over my cheek. "Do you realize that now?" he asked gently.

I nodded, feeling my face flush with minor embarrassment.

He grinned, and at first I thought he was amused by my goofy human reaction. So his next words surprised me. "You are definitely on the mend."

"Huh?"

He chuckled. "Your concussion affected your judgment, Bella. That's why you thought the consequences of your accident would be so dire. But now that you can see reason again, I know the concussion is resolving."

"Does that mean I can go home before the morning?" I asked eagerly.

"Bella," he chastised good-naturedly, "you aren't still hoping to keep this from Edward?"

"Only the cause… and only because I really do want to surprise him with a wedding waltz."

"I promise that neither Emmett nor I will reveal anything about your dance lessons to Edward. As far as either Emmett or I know, you tripped on the stairs, just as you told us."

"So do I still have to stay here?"

"I'd prefer it. And I know Edward would, too. He's going to want to take care of you… Which reminds me, I meant to offer you a bit of pre-wedding advice."

For some reason, my cheeks flamed even hotter. What if he was going to try to give me a sex talk?

He laughed when he saw my reaction. "Relax, Bella. I was just going to tell you that it's good for a marriage when spouses pamper each other. It brings them you closer together and leaves both feeling cared for and needed, and that's important in a marriage."

"Oh. Thanks." I think my concussion was still interfering a little with my thought processes. It was probably good that Carlisle insisted I remain right where I was.

He stood fluidly. "Try to rest a while longer."

"Okay."

He was still chuckling lightly when he left the room, but I didn't really mind. I felt much lighter, too. I closed my eyes, relaxed and content now. I was asleep within a minute.

* * *

Voices woke me. They were soft at first, and I realized they were coming from downstairs. But they were moving closer at a very rapid pace. Edward was questioning Carlisle; I could hear them both clearly now.

"She's been vomiting?" my fiancé asked with concern.

"Not within the last two hours. Her vitals are good, her neurological exam results have been within the normal range, and she's fully oriented. The concussion appears to be resolving."

"Even so, you should have called me immediately!"

"She didn't want to worry you."

Edward strode through the door, his expression tight with anxiety. "Bella!" It seemed my name was the only word he could get out at the moment.

He was beside me instantly, studying my eyes intently then running his hands gently over my head. When he found the lump his frown deepened.

"Didn't you give her an ice pack?" he asked with a brief glance over his shoulder.

Carlisle stood just inside the doorway, a small, knowing smile gracing his lips. "I believe Esme is preparing one as we speak."

Edward's hands moved around to cradle my face. "Are you all right, love? Do you feel dizzy or sleepy or nauseated at all?"

"No Edward, I'm fine. My head aches a little, but it's not as bad as before."

"She can have some more Tylenol now," Carlisle offered, remaining exactly where he was.

Edward had the cap off and two tablets in his hand in the blink of an eye. He lifted my head gently and slid the caplets into my mouth, holding the water glass to my lips solicitously. He watched as I swallowed.

"You should feel better soon," he said.

"I feel better already," I replied, reaching for his hand. "Sit down."

He complied, wrapping one arm around me as he rested his other hand gently over the bump above my ear. His cold skin felt nice, easing the ache a little. He kissed my forehead and cheeks, never taking his eyes from my face.

I was smiling contently when Esme entered with the ice pack. She lifted it toward my head, but Edward snatched it out of her hand. She pursed her lips to keep from grinning at his uncharacteristically brusque action.

"Let me know if there's anything you need," she said softly before turning toward her husband. Hand in hand, they left the room.

Edward settled the ice pack over the lump. "How is that?" he asked.

"Good." I sighed. "Very good."

"Is there anything else you want? Anything else I can get you?"

"No," I replied honestly, lifting my hand to stroke his cheek. "I have everything I need—everything I want—right here."

When he kissed me, the ice pack slid off my head to land with a little plop on the pillow. Neither of us paid it any attention. We were too busy taking care of each other.

* * *

_The End..._

**Note:** A couple of readers expressed an interest in viewing the events of the story from Carlisle's perspective. If you would be interested in reading an epilogue told from his POV, please let me know. If there is sufficient interest, I'll post a bonus chapter.


	6. Epilogue

**Note:** This epilogue is told from Carlisle's perspective and is primarily a retelling of the events in the first five chapters. However, as seen through his eyes there will be a few new insights. If you prefer not to reread the events, however, you might simply read the first and last sections of this chapter, where you will see the results of Bella's dance lessons at the wedding.

* * *

_Epilogue_

Bella was truly a vision of loveliness. I felt certain I had never seen a more glorious bride. Her expression was serene as Edward held her in his arms. My son's entire mien, too, reflected his joy that Bella was now his wife. Matrimonial bliss enveloped them utterly.

Contentment curled warmly through me as I watched the happy couple on the dance floor. Edward led flawlessly, his feet moving with perfect rhythm, his body gently guiding Bella's. Her movements were smooth and graceful as she completed the well-practiced steps. Her gaze remained upon Edward's beaming face, but for one instant I saw her eyes flick over his shoulder to offer Emmett a grateful smile.

Esme's arm slid around my waist, and I lifted her chin to place a gentle kiss upon her lips.

"Carlisle," she sighed contentedly, "just look at them. I've never seen Edward so happy, so at peace." After watching them for a few more moments, she laughed lightly. "And Bella is _dancing_! She really seems to be enjoying herself."

"Yes, she does," I agreed, a smile spreading over my face.

My hand slipped into my wife's as my thoughts wandered back to the day Bella had learned to dance. The morning had been chaotic as my family prepared to go to Seattle. Rose and Alice had argued about which stores to visit, while Jasper and Emmett had spent considerable time convincing Edward to leave Bella for the day so that he could find an appropriate wedding gift for her. He'd consented to the excursion earlier but had changed his mind at the last moment. It had taken Alice's firm conviction that he was meant to go into the city to persuade him to accompany his brothers on the trip.

Esme gave me a lingering farewell kiss just before leaving. We were still standing in the kitchen when we heard the tumult in the garage.

She shook her head. "Emmett's instigated another wrestling match with Jasper," she said with mild exasperation.

Before I could respond, we heard a tremendous crash. An instant later, we stood outside the garage, staring at a massive hole in the wall. Alice darted through the gaping portal, and I turned to see Jasper sprawled against a tree about fifty feet away.

"Emmett!" I said sternly, my ire piqued at his irresponsible and destructive behavior.

Emmett emerged from the garage with a sheepish expression on his face. "Sorry," he murmured. "I guess things got a little out of hand."

"A little?" I repeated with considerable vexation. "You've nearly destroyed the garage! I expect this to be repaired by the time I return home this evening."

Esme nodded at my side. "You'll need to repaint the entire exterior so that everything matches."

"Yes, Mom," he said obediently.

Rosalie huffed in the background. "I thought you were taking me to Tiffany's!"

"Sorry, babe," Emmett said. "Buy yourself something nice from me."

"Oh, I will!" she assured him.

Within a few minutes Jasper and Alice had driven off in her Porsche, followed by Esme, Edward, and Rosalie in the Volvo. I gave Emmett one more remonstrating look then got into my car. Thanks to his childish behavior, I was now running late.

The morning did not improve when I received the call about the warehouse fire in Port Angeles. One man was gravely injured and required superior facilities and care if he had any chance for survival. Neither the Forks nor Port Angeles hospitals were equipped for such injuries, but I knew that Harbor View Medical Center in Seattle was. I planned to phone a colleague there to request that she oversee the case. After discovering that she was not on duty, I decided to call her at home; she was an extremely dedicated physician, and I felt certain she would not mind the intrusion. I had her home number stored in my Blackberry but soon found that I'd inadvertently left it at the house.

Fortunately I had no surgeries scheduled until the following day, so my agenda permitted a quick trip to retrieve the forgotten device. When I arrived home, two surprises met me. First I noticed Bella's truck parked in the drive. Next I observed the pristine condition of the garage. Emmett had completed the work in record time. For a moment I wondered if he had enlisted Bella's help and determined to chastise him if this were the case. He had caused the damage; it was his sole responsibility to repair it.

Still wondering, I pulled into the garage. Emmett's Jeep was gone—another unexpected development. I entered the house through the kitchen, where Bella's unique scent immediately greeted me. I listened for a moment to determine where she was and soon heard water running in the small bathroom near the living room.

Bella was just leaving the bathroom as I entered the room. Her gaze was fixed upon the floor, and she was mumbling softly. I heard her say Edward's name, then she repeated the phrase more clearly: "Keep it from Edward; don't let him know."

"Bella?" I queried.

Her head jerked up, her eyes wide with surprise. She faltered momentarily but regained her balance.

"Um…hi," she rasped.

Her voice was somewhat husky, and she looked pale. My curiosity and concern building, I said, "I saw your truck. Are you waiting for Edward? I thought you knew he'd gone to Seattle today—"

As I took a breath, the distinctly acrid smell of vomit prickled in my nose. I glanced at the bathroom, suddenly understanding the cause of her pallor and hoarseness.

Immediately, I asked, "Bella, are you ill?"

I darted forward, placing my hands gently upon her shoulders. She swallowed and hung her head, whispering that odd phrase again. Her heart rate increased significantly, signaling anxiety.

She did not look up at me as she replied somewhat haltingly, "Um, yeah. I had a banana that… tasted off this morning."

I arched an eyebrow dubiously; it was rare for a human to contract a food-borne illness from fruit. Still, something was clearly amiss, and I suspected that she was reticent to tell me. Bella never liked the attention that an illness or injury engendered.

"Did you come here because you felt sick?" I asked gently, hoping to convey sympathy and support in my tone.

Her bowed head and her mumbled reply indicated embarrassment. "Oh, uh no. It's… sort of silly, actually."

As I listened to her heart and lungs, I inhaled slowly. I heard nothing abnormal, but I could now discern a hint of fresh, sweet blood mingling with her floral essence. The muted quality of the aroma told me that the injury was beneath her skin; she had either sustained a fairly significant contusion or suffered a sprain.

As both my curiosity and unease mounted, I asked frankly yet kindly, "What's going on?"

She took a breath then said, "Emmett's teaching me to dance. I wanted to surprise Edward. For the wedding, I mean."

Her heart raced even faster, and again she whispered, "Keep it from Edward; don't let him know."

Clearly she had incurred some sort of injury that she wished to hide from Edward. I understood her fear, even though I knew it was unfounded. Regardless, I needed to know the nature of her ailment.

"Bella."

She did not lift her head; she seemed determined to avoid my gaze. I placed my fingertips beneath her chin, but she remained motionless.

"Tell me what's wrong," I prompted.

"Nothing," she mumbled. "I should get home now, though. Charlie's waiting—"

I lifted her chin so I could see her face. Immediately she squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Her behavior was uncharacteristic and odd, spurring additional concern for me. Still, I kept my voice calm as I informed her, "You're hurt. I can smell fresh blood beneath your skin. You've bruised yourself, or perhaps had a sprain…"

Her eyelids pinched together as she shook her head minutely. "It's nothing," she replied, then her lips moved and she repeated that phrase about Edward once again. I strongly suspected that she remained unaware that I could hear her words clearly.

"Open your eyes." When she did not respond, I moved my hand up, resting it against her warm cheek. "Bella," I adjured mildly, "please look at me."

Quickly, the words running together, she uttered, "I hit my head, and I think I have a concussion."

Her attempts at concealment made sense now: She feared that I would note some irregularity in her pupil response if I saw her eyes. It was irrational but oddly logical—something typical of my son's wonderful human fiancée.

I rubbed my thumb over her cheek, and her lids fluttered open partially.

"You've had a concussion before," I commented neutrally, knowing from her records that she had suffered this particular injury on two prior occasions.

With a nod, she confirmed, "Twice." Her cheeks flushed at this admission.

Somewhat relieved that her long-term memory appeared unimpaired, I took her arm and led her slowly to the couch. I helped her to sit then knelt before her. She still kept her eyes partially closed, concealing them from me.

Employing the steady yet firm tone I reserved for intractable children, I said, "Let me see your eyes."

Bella sighed and complied. I studied her eyes, noting that her pupils were equal, which was a good sign. Quickly I retrieved a penlight from my pocket and checked her pupils again. They reacted more slowly than normal but not significantly so. She suppressed a groan, and I knew that the light was causing her additional pain. Unfortunately it was unavoidable.

I returned the penlight to my pocket before beginning to examine her scalp and asking, "How did this happen?"

She flinched when I probed the area of swelling. She had sustained a fairly significant blow to the head, but I found no indications of any damage to her skull.

"I stumbled," she said. "Just tripped over my own two feet—same old, same old."

Curious, I inquired, "Was this while you were dancing with Emmett?"

Immediately she replied, "No." Then, emphasizing every word, she added, "No! Of course not. Emmett was very careful with me. I tripped while I was practicing on my own, _after_ he left to get ice cream."

Clearly she had been injured while dancing with Emmett but was reluctant to admit it. I wondered if Emmett even knew… "I see. And what did you hit your head on?"

"One of the posts on the porch." Her frank tone and slower heart rate told me that she was being truthful with this piece of information.

I asked her to track my finger with her eyes to assess ocular-motor function. She performed adequately, but after a few moments she blanched, and her skin grew clammy. She was becoming nauseated again.

I smiled sympathetically and instructed softly, "Close your eyes and breathe slowly." I rubbed one hand lightly against the back of her neck as I pressed my fingers over the pressure point at the base of her thumb. For many individuals, this small action quelled nausea. Fortunately Bella was no exception.

Her breathing steadied and she whispered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." My tone was affable, but I was concerned by her continued queasiness and sluggish pupil response. I needed to do a more thorough examination to determine how serious her concussion was.

I excused myself and hurried to retrieve my bag. Bella frowned when she saw it, but I was undeterred. I knew that, ultimately, she would prefer that I evaluate her here rather than taking her to the hospital for a head CT. In most cases, my enhanced senses allowed me to make extremely accurate diagnoses without the need for sophisticated machinery.

Beginning a standard neurological exam, I asked her the date, to which she replied correctly. I inquired about several recent events, as well, finding her responses adequate. She was fully oriented to time and place. Next I stated six items and asked her to repeat them back. Her short-term memory was unimpaired. I would check her long-term memory later.

I assessed her balance, keeping in mind that for Bella some minor ataxia was normal. Her reflexes were fine, as was her blood pressure—considering that she remained somewhat anxious. I found no signs of bleeding in either ear, either upon visual or olfactory inspection, but her pupil reactivity remained slightly abnormal.

I noticed that her gaze moved to the door repeatedly as I examined her. Twice I heard her repeat the phrase about Edward; it had taken on a particular cadence, and I wondered how many times she had employed silent recitation.

Frankly, this was the one symptom that concerned me. Bella and Edward had built a great deal of trust since their return from Volterra. I had observed the development of unadulterated honesty and faith between them. So Bella's insistence on hiding her injury from him indicated impairments in judgment. I would need to observe her closely over the next several hours.

Masking my minor apprehension, I told her, "I agree with your diagnosis, Bella. You do have a concussion, but it appears mild."

She nodded curtly, speaking with uncharacteristic brusqueness. "Right. Thanks. I didn't mean to bother you. Nothing to discuss or think about, really. I'll just head home now."

She began to stand.

With a shake of my head, I caught her wrist gently. "I can't allow you to drive for at least twenty-four hours."

Visible disappointment washed over her. "I'm okay," she insisted. "Really. I'm not dizzy at all now."

"No driving, Bella," I replied firmly. "And you shouldn't be alone, either."

"I'll call Charlie. He can come and get me and stay with me." She nodded, pleased with her solution. Her mouth moved in subvocal declamation, Edward's name upon her lips once more. She remained oblivious to the fact that I could hear her.

"Your father's in Port Angeles today," I responded. I explained briefly about the burn victim and my reason for returning to the house—which I now realized was fortuitous.

Bella encouraged me to call Dr. Lambert, expressing concern for the injured man. Quickly she added, "And maybe you could drop me off at Angela Weber's house on your way back to the hospital? She can be sure I'm all right."

Her behavior was beginning to border on perseveration. However, I kept my voice even and my tone soothing as I told her, "No, dear, that won't be necessary. I can work from home for the rest of the day and keep an eye on you myself."

"But you have that burn patient—"

"He's already on the way to Seattle," I assured her. "I just need to call Dr. Lambert and alert her that he's coming. I'll be back in a moment."

I dashed to my office to find the errant Blackberry sitting upon my desk. Returning to the living room, I retrieved the number I needed then quickly placed the call. As expected, Dr. Lambert was glad to provide whatever assistance she could. I gave her all the information I possessed then thanked her.

I'd observed Bella surreptitiously as I conversed. She remained preoccupied and somewhat uneasy. Her features were pinched with pain, too. I would do all that I could to make her comfortable. As soon as I ended the call, I returned to her side, placing my hand upon her shoulder. She flinched in surprise, immersed in her own musings.

I smiled an apology. "Bella, perhaps you'd be more comfortable in Edward's room?" I suggested.

She gave a nod of agreement and began to stand. However, she wavered momentarily. Rapidly I lifted her into my arms and carried her upstairs. I set her gently upon Edward's bed then left to get an analgesic for her. I heard her sigh but wasn't sure if it was an indicator of physical or emotional pain.

She swallowed the two Tylenol without complaint and expressed gratitude when I placed a cool, damp washcloth over her brow. I tucked a blanket around her to ensure that she would not feel chilled. .

Observing the heaviness of her eyelids, I said softly, "Just rest, Bella. I'll check on you again soon, but if you need me, just call."

I walked from the room with silent steps but paused in the hallway to listen as her respiration and heart rate slowed. Within a minute she had fallen asleep. She would find a respite from her body's discomfort, but I knew her emotional agitation would not diminish. I could provide no palliative substance to soothe her spirit. To accomplish that bit of healing, I would need to rely upon my other skills.

* * *

Emmett's return was accompanied by considerable clatter. Doors slammed and pounding feet echoed through the house before I could intercept him in the hallway and alert him to Bella's condition. He blinked in surprise when I explained that she'd sustained a concussion.

"What the hell?" he blurted out. "A concussion?"

"Yes," I replied, judging his reaction. It was immediately evident to me that he knew nothing of her injury.

"Damn. She told me she was gonna practice—Oh, crap, I wasn't supposed to say what we were doing." His face fell.

Chuckling, I said, "It's all right, Emmett. She already told me that you're teaching her to dance. I think that's very kind of you."

He shrugged, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "We had fun, actually, and she learned pretty fast. I even did a couple of spins, and she only stumbled once." His expression was one of utter innocence.

"I see." My words were more than a simple acknowledgement; I felt fairly certain that I now understood what had happened.

"So when's she gonna wake up?"

"I'm not sure, but given the volume of your voice, I wouldn't be surprised if she's awake now. Still, it's best to let her rest—"

"But I got ice cream for her!" he protested.

He was directly before Edward's door now. "Sshh. Keep your voice down," I warned.

He frowned slightly at my admonition. "How'd she get hurt, anyway?"

"She said she tripped on the porch while she was practicing and hit her head on one of the posts."

I walked into the room to find Bella's eyes open.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" I asked.

"Okay, I guess," she said. She smiled up at Emmett, who now stood near the bed.

With a shake of his head, he said, "Bella! What'd you do to yourself? You've gotta be more careful!"

Bella's expression was one of abashedness, but it seemed a bit forced to me. Emmett, however, did not appear to notice. He simply shook his head in sympathy.

I checked her pulse and pupils again, asking, "Do you remember why Emmett went out?"

She replied, "To get ice cream"

She recalled the flavor, which was a positive sign. When I inquired about her level of pain, she replied honestly then seemed to regret it. I checked the contusion; it was unchanged.

So was her obduracy. Again she suggested that she leave, this time requesting that Emmett take her to the Webers' home.

"Bella," I replied, "no. You need to stay here. Or, if you'd really rather not, I can take you to the hospital. But you need to remain under professional observation."

She appeared to consider this option, which concerned me. Bella held a distinct dislike of hospitals.

"Bella?" I probed, "do you _want _to go to the hospital?"

She swallowed. "Um, no, here's fine, I guess."

I was not pleased with her vacillation. Difficulty with decision making could be a sign of increasing cranial pressure. Needing to examine her again, I sent Emmett for my bag.

I gave Bella another series of questions and cognitive tasks, all of which she performed adequately. Once I had my bag, I assessed her reflexes and blood pressure, then examined her eyes and ears again. Her discomfiture was obvious, but it was unavoidable.

I found no physical signs that concerned me. Minor alterations in thought were not uncommon with this type of head injury, and I reminded myself that persistence was one of Bella's inherent traits. If I noted any escalation, however, I would take her to the hospital for additional evaluation.

Once I'd completed my examination, Emmett bounded into the room. Holding out a large bowl filled to the rim, he exclaimed, "Here's your ice cream," grinning from ear to ear.

Bella accepted the bowl, claiming her nausea had resolved. Still, I sensed a hint of prevarication in her mannerisms. I suspected that she did not want to disappoint Emmett. I glanced at my watch, recalling that I'd promised to phone the charge nurse to check on a patient. As I was excusing myself, Bella inquired about the burn victim. The fact that she remembered this was another positive sign.

She was just dipping her spoon into the bowl when I left the room. I heard her and Emmett chatting then focused my attention on my phone call. I had barely finished when the distinctive sounds of retching met my ears. Bella's nausea had returned.

I hurried upstairs but paused before entering the bathroom. Emmett was speaking softly, his tone gentle. He was concerned to see Bella with tears in her eyes. I felt a tug of emotion as I watched him with her. His tenderness was quite touching.

As soon as I stepped into the room, Bella offered an apology. She tried to stand but faltered. Emmett acted immediately to position her in his lap. One huge hand eased her head back to rest against his chest while his other arm looped lightly yet protectively around her.

"You okay now?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "You're really pale…"

"You should talk," she replied, attempting a joke.

I had already run a washcloth under warm water. With a smile, I knelt before Bella and gently bathed her face, knowing that humans found this small gesture soothing.

"I think we'll try to keep your stomach empty for the next few hours," I suggested, "aside from some water, if you can manage it."

Emmett's brow was furrowed with worry. "Did I get bad ice cream?"

"No, son," I assured him, touched by his sincere distress. "Nausea is a relatively common occurrence after a concussion."

"How long's it gonna last?" he asked me.

Bella provided an expedient answer. "Not much longer, I hope. I hate throwing up!"

Emmett teased her good-naturedly, and she responded in kind. I smiled at their camaraderie; he was her big brother in every sense of the word. Without being asked, he

carried her back to the bed and tucked her in.

I slipped from the room, knowing she was in good hands. I had to chuckle to myself when she asked once again if she could leave, suggesting that Emmett drive her. She reminded me of a child surreptitiously seeking permission from one parent when denied by the other.

"Emmett," I said, knowing he would hear me easily, "no. She needs to remain here, where I can observe her, for the next twenty-four hours."

He parroted the information back to Bella. I could hear the disappointment in her voice and knew she continued to harbor a baseless hope that she could hide her injury from Edward. Understanding how she had incurred it, I sympathized with her concerns. She probably feared that Edward would retaliate against Emmett. While I doubted this would be the case, I determined to speak with her about it regardless. I could put her mind at ease.

She secured Emmett's promise to keep the dance lessons a secret, then asked if he thought I would agree to remaining mute on the subject as well. I smiled at Emmett's perception of me as faultlessly honest when dealing with my family. I suppose he was right to a certain extent; it was my form of atonement for the necessary deception in my professional life.

Emmett commented that Bella looked slightly queasy again. I listened to her reply, somewhat concerned when she confessed to additional discomfort. Emmett left her to rest. I thanked him quietly as I passed him in the hallway.

"Is she gonna be okay?" he asked, truly worried.

"Yes," I assured him. "I'll be certain of it."

Her healing, however, would be incomplete until I'd had the chance to speak with her again. Knowing that she would desire privacy, I added, "You missed a couple of spots on the exterior north wall. Esme won't be pleased…"

Emmett hurried downstairs and out to the garage.

When I entered Edward's room, Bella lay quietly with her eyes closed. I spoke her name softly, relieved that she roused immediately. She blinked at me and gave me a thin smile.

I leaned in to scrutinize her eyes, reaching for my penlight. "You told Emmett that your head was beginning to hurt more."

Quickly she said, "I'm okay." She waved away the light. "I just said that because I wanted to rest some more."

"So your head doesn't feel any worse?" I confirmed.

"No. It's fine."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." I knew, of course, that she wanted to speak with me about the dance lessons, and I was anxious to discuss her unnecessary secrecy. Casually, I inquired, "Is there anything I can do for you while I'm here?"

Her expression reflected some relief, but her halting speech and heart rate told me that she remained uneasy. "Um, I was just wondering—hoping, really—that you could try not to think about my dance lessons with Emmett after Edward gets home? Remember I told you I wanted to surprise him—Edward, I mean…"

She was able to recall our earlier conversation with clarity. This was an excellent indicator of her improving condition. I replied, "I do remember your telling me that." I kept my tone calm and encouraging as I added, "You seem quite determined that Edward doesn't find out."

She nodded eagerly, undoubtedly assuming I would comply with her request. "I want it to be a surprise, something I can give him because I can't offer him anything else—no jewelry or fancy gifts or anything—"

My still heart ached at her admission. I placed my hand over hers to emphasize the sincerity of my words. "Bella, don't you know that you're already giving him the only thing he's ever wanted?"

I smelled a hint of saltiness and knew that tears were building in her eyes. She swallowed twice, and I apprehended that her throat felt thick with emotion. There was no need for her to speak anyway. I smiled in understanding and rubbed my thumb comfortingly over her warm hand.

After a few moments, I spoke again. It was time to coax the full truth from her. I could not alleviate her apprehension until she expressed its source honestly to me. "Now, regarding your request, I think it's a reasonable one, and I will honor it on one condition."

She inhaled sharply, her eyes widening in alarm. "What's that?" she peeped.

My voice was light and calm as I said, "I want you to tell me why you've repeated 'Keep it from Edward; don't let him know' so adamantly since the moment I got home."

She was truly shocked by my words. "You _heard_ that?"

Suppressing a smile at her reaction, I responded placidly, "I did, but at the time I couldn't understand why you would be so resolute about that. Forgive me if this sounds at all impolite, but Edward is aware that you occasionally stumble and have even been known to injure yourself in the process. So I was a bit mystified about your intense desire to hide this from him."

"I just… didn't want him to worry. I mean, he'd probably insist on taking me to Seattle or San Francisco for some sort of super-high-tech, advanced brain scan or something if he knew about this." She pointed at the contusion.

"Is that really all there is to it?" With the tenor of my voice I conveyed my wish for her to answer honestly.

I could see that she wanted to tell me the truth. However, her eyes flickered to the doorway, alerting me to her concern that Emmett might overhear our conversation. She wanted privacy for her confession.

"Emmett's out in the garage," I told her, offering her an encouraging look.

She gave a little sigh then asked reticently, "Does doctor-patient confidentially apply here?"

She was so delightfully endearing; I pressed my lips together to repress my grin. "Absolutely."

"And you won't accidentally replay this conversation in your thoughts when Edward can hear?"

"No," I replied reassuringly.

She hid her face against the blanket then blurted, "I'm such a klutz!"

We were nearing the truth now. I prompted her, "You hit your head while you were practicing with Emmett, didn't you?"

She lifted her head quickly, gaping at me in surprise. "How… how did you know?"

Her human ingenuousness was utterly charming, eliciting another smile from me. "Well, it wasn't terribly difficult to figure out. You wouldn't be dead-set against Edward finding out about your injury if you really had simply tripped. You know he would understand that and wouldn't cast blame on anyone… with the possible exception of himself for leaving you alone and not being here to catch you. But if he knew Emmett was responsible—"

"It wasn't his fault!" she interposed almost frantically.

Now I permitted myself to in earnest as I told her gently, "Yes, you were rather adamant on that point earlier, too."

She did not respond to my humor. Instead, she lowered her gaze and said tremulously, "It's just that I was so afraid."

Sobering, I repeated, "Afraid?" I needed her to admit the root of her fear. "You mean of what Edward might do to Emmett?"

She shook her head. "No—I mean, yes, of course I don't want to see Emmett hurt. But I thought it would be a repeat of my birthday, that Edward would decide I wasn't safe here, that you all were a threat to me, and he'd… he'd… leave me again." Her eyes filled with tears.

Now that she had expressed her fear, I knew she would see how irrational it was. I wrapped my arms around her, enveloping her with all the emotional warmth I could muster. "Oh Bella. This is entirely different."

"But if he thought Emmett was responsible for me getting hurt—" A sob broke her words.

She still required another verbal nudge. "Even if he did, things have changed."

"They…" She hiccupped another sob. "They have?"

"Yes," I reassured her, understanding that she needed to hear the words; this was not the time for subtlety. "In so many ways. Edward loves you very deeply, and there is nothing that could take him away from you. He still regrets leaving you last year; I'm sure he will for the rest of his existence. He would never put you through that again."

"Even if he thought it was for my own good, to keep me safe?" she asked hesitantly, fear still lingering.

I pulled back so that I could lift her chin and look directly at her. "He knows you are safest, happiest, and healthiest with him, no matter what."

She calmed visibly, her tears ceasing as her heart slowed.

"I guess I was a little silly," she said, her cheeks coloring.

I brushed away her tears. "Do you realize that now?"

She flushed more deeply as she nodded.

I smiled in relief, knowing her thoughts were clear now. "You are definitely on the mend."

"Huh?"

With a chuckle, I told her, "Your concussion affected your judgment, Bella. That's why you thought the consequences of your accident would be so dire. But now that you can see reason again, I know the concussion is resolving."

"Does that mean I can go home before the morning?"

"Bella, you aren't still hoping to keep this from Edward?" Her human stubbornness was unwavering.

"Only the cause… and only because I really do want to surprise him with a wedding waltz."

Ah, now I understood. The secret would be kept in the name of romance. I could appreciate that.

"I promise that neither Emmett nor I will reveal anything about your dance lessons to Edward. As far as either Emmett or I know, you tripped on the stairs, just as you told us."

"So do I still have to stay here?"

"I'd prefer it. And I know Edward would, too. He's going to want to take care of you… Which reminds me, I meant to offer you a bit of pre-wedding advice."

Her sudden blush told me that she misinterpreted the direction in which my thoughts were moving. I laughed lightly, hoping to put her at ease.

"Relax, Bella. I was just going to tell you that it's good for a marriage when spouses pamper each other. It brings them you closer together and leaves both feeling cared for and needed, and that's important for couples."

"Oh," she replied, obviously relieved. "Thanks."

I stood, preparing to leave. "Try to rest a while longer," I advised.

"Okay."

I walked down the hallway with slow steps, contemplating the confusing, complex, wonderful workings of the human mind.

* * *

Edward had quickly forgiven me for failing to inform him about Bella's injury. Once he held her securely in his arms, adoration overtook any lingering irritation. His focus was solely upon her.

My thoughts returned to the present as the music ended. Edward's steps slowed, but his adulation did not fade. Other couples began to drift onto the dance floor. I looked down at Esme, making a silent request. She smiled and gave me a nod. Together we walked toward our son and new daughter.

Another song began, its strains soft and dulcet. Esme touched Edward's arm, and he grinned at her.

"I believe a mother-son dance is traditional," she said.

"My pleasure," he replied, kissing Bella's cheek before taking Esme's hand. They waltzed off together laughing.

Bella was blushing again, but it only added to the elated glow surrounding her. With a slight bow of my head, I held out my hand.

"May I have this dance?" I asked.

"Absolutely." She took my hand as a soft smile spread across her face. "You've earned it."

As Rosalie and Emmett swept past us, he quirked an eyebrow at Bella and said, "I'm next!"

She giggled then nestled her head against my chest as I led her smoothly across the dance floor.

* * *

_The End--Really! :)_

_Thanks to everyone who has left a review. I sincerely appreciate it! You're the reason I continue to write.  
_


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